


Indigo

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Accidental Incest, Aunt/Nephew Incest, Body Worship, Dream Sex, Dreamsharing, F/M, Magic Drugs, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, idk this is mostly just weird, possible soulbond?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 05:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13357581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: He is handsome, of fair skin and curling black hair, and deep grey eyes that speak of the sky about to storm, that speak of a past or future she might just know. He kneels above her and she parts her legs for him, but he looks over her warily, cautious. Still, it seems he cannot resist her, and his lips – pink and round, perfectly formed, lips one could write a song about – find her own, blue-stained.





	Indigo

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I was playing around with the [kink generator](http://promptgenerator.tumblr.com/kink2), got "drugs + body worship" and somehow _this_ ensued.
> 
> Seemingly takes place like mid-ACOK, but you can decide for yourself exactly where.

She is lying upon a pool, floating in some mysterious aether that seems likely to swallow her at any moment. _I should not have taken their potion,_ she thinks, having meant only to be polite, having thought the evening drink would be something like a very strong wine – she did not mean to sink into this strange limbo.

The water sucks her underneath and she finds herself naked, on her back and cold, snow cushioning her fall, great mountains of ice up around her and making her seem small. The fire within her though, keeps her from freezing in the wintry world. A young man appears before her, clad in a watchman's tunic and wildling's coat, although how she knows what either of those things looks like is beyond her.

He is handsome, of fair skin and curling black hair, and deep grey eyes that speak of the sky about to storm, that speak of a past or future she might just know. He kneels above her and she parts her legs for him, but he looks over her warily, cautious. Still, it seems he cannot resist her, and his lips – pink and round, perfectly formed, lips one could write a song about – find her own, blue-stained.

She moans and kisses him back, hopelessly vulnerable, his wild furs rubbing against her naked flesh. His body speaks of the danger, the thrill of foreign lands. “Queen,” he whispers in her ear, and she gasps to hear it, the promise, the one her brother made her and her blood made her, that her dragons make her, and her cunt pulses with heat.

“King,” she answers, and she does not know why she says it but his grey eyes flicker at her, light breaking over the ice, a lilac dawn enveloping them both.

His mouth finds her breast and sucks, and she moans, arching up toward him. Her breasts have been full of milk, but never suckled upon by a babe. She thinks of her sun-and-stars with pain, but the young man's hand finds her other breast and she allows it, she allows him to knead her, need her, to leave a crimson circle upon her teat.

She turns her head and he kisses her neck as well, leaving an invisible mark that may never leave. His cock presses hard and hot against her thigh, and briefly she reaches for it, brushing her fingers against the length, though she can hardly feel it through this thick leathers. And he moves too fast for her to get a grasp.

He licks along the inside of her thigh, leaving a hot trail that cools quickly in the winter air. She moans as his finger finds and teases her cunt, and she grasps his black locks with both hands, urging him on. He sucks her skin again and marks her, deep purple bruises on either side, and she fears she will melt the ice beneath them and drown them both if his perfect mouth does not find its way to her cunt, now.

Luckily, it does, forming a slow, steady circle that makes her gasp shallowly. Her sun-and-stars, for all her loved her, did not think to service her this way. She moans and arches up toward his tongue as it strokes over her nub, and then he moves back up and kisses beneath her navel. She whines, aching for his touch, and he chuckles before he returns to what he was doing before.

Two fingers push inside her as he mouths over her cunt, and she twists and turns as he fucks her with them so softly, so gently, the mountains themselves threaten to crumble. This stranger seems to know the inside of her like the back of his hand, he knows where to push and where to pull, how to make her sob, and perhaps that should frighten her but somehow she trusts him, somehow she knows he means only to bring her pleasure.

There is something so familiar about him, and when he curls his tongue and shifts his fingers just enough to make her peak, it's almost like she's done it to herself. She cries out into these foreign lands, letting her noise bounce off the icy walls, and he kisses her as she recovers. He starts upon her ankle, like a man worshipping his queen, and then moves up her leg, like a man loving his wife. Her skin is littered with the marks of his devotion, violet marks to match her eyes, and he even bites her hipbone, marking her gasp at his cheek. He smiles ruefully and sucks upon her breast again, making her moan. When he finally reaches her mouth, his lips come away blue-tinted after they kiss.

Then they roll, onto the hot Essosi sands and he stares up at her, dazzled. She smiles. His furs melt away like the snow and she lowers her mouth to his neck, sucking to leave a mark to match her own. He groans and thrusts toward her body, and she catches his prick in her hand, stroking lightly, making a promise she means to keep, but not quite yet.

He gasps as her mouth finds his own nipple, his hands folding through her hair, pulling her forward. His cock rocks helplessly against her thigh, and she allows it, letting him pleasure himself against her skin. The fur on his chest feels strange, foreign, but perhaps not unpleasantly so.

She moves down over his body, turning to kiss his palms, each in turn, calloused from years of sword-practice. When she finds herself swallowing his prick, she thinks a second of what her brother would think if he saw her sucking a stranger's cock, but there is no shame in it, no submission. There is only the pleasure he has given her, that it seems only fair to return.

He moans as she sucks him, his hands running frantically through her silver locks, but never pushing her down no matter how he trembles beneath her. She takes him as deep as she can, and somehow her throat just obeys, conceding to the pressure of his prick as if it knows he's meant to be there.

With a gasp and a yank of her hair he spills in her mouth, and when she swallows his seed he tastes of hot soup and a father's love and home, home in a way she's never known. Her eyes meet his own and she sees them turn a deep indigo, before the sand parts beneath them, before the ice melts, and they both sink into the aether.

 


End file.
